


The Three Phases of Bodie's Blushes

by PFL (msmoat)



Category: The Professionals
Genre: Episode Related, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-07-02 12:00:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15796098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msmoat/pseuds/PFL
Summary: Three times Bodie blushes, and each time Doyle is the reason. Posted for the LJ/DW community teaandswissroll challenge: "Blushing".





	The Three Phases of Bodie's Blushes

**PHASE 1**

 

“If we’re lucky, we’ll get a lift home in the squad car,” Toni had said, and she’d been right, Pat reflected as she walked up to her flat. It had been a kind of an adventure, but it hadn’t really made up for missing the show. Bodie had said he was sorry, but, well, Pat reckoned his mind wasn’t on her, and hadn’t been on her since he’d got the call from work. Some work. She’d thought he was a civil servant! Well, he’d said so, although he’d also said he didn’t work standard hours. She had thought maybe something vaguely to do with security, but— CI5, that’s what Toni said it was. Toni had found that out by snooping a look at Doyle’s ID. Pat hadn’t thought to look at Bodie’s. Reaching her flat, she let herself in and closed the door. She felt…deflated. 

He’d swept her off her feet—how long was it? Gosh, only four days ago. His trolly had bumped into hers at the supermarket. She’d been angry at first, but he’d smiled and apologised and checked to make certain she hadn’t jammed her finger, and then he’d gone on his way. But when he’d found her again at the tills, he’d asked her to dinner. She’d been charmed by his manners, but she’d fallen for his blue eyes. She’d never seen such a rich colour, although Toni’s eyes were close to that colour, now that she thought about it. She made her way to the kitchen and filled the kettle with water. It had been cold and wet outside, she could do with some warmth.

Dinner with Bodie that first night had been wonderful, no question. She’d had his full attention then, and when he’d taken her home, she had invited him up for coffee. They’d never made it to the coffee, of course. Or at least, not that night. That had been wonderful as well—he’d been a considerate lover, and he’d stayed for breakfast the next morning. She hadn’t been ready to think it was serious, of course, but she had really looked forward to seeing him again. She hadn’t expected him to turn up the next night. But he’d said his plans had fallen through. It had been a bit of a strange evening, she’d thought so even at the time. He’d been as charming and funny as before, but there had been something bothering him. She’d asked him about it and “work,” was all he’d said, after apologising. He’d seemed…frustrated. Sad, even. He had spent the night with her, but he hadn’t fallen asleep as easily when she’d held him after. He’d left before breakfast, too. 

Well. Now she knew what that ‘work’ was. Maybe he’d dealt with a difficult situation that day. He could have said, couldn’t he? Maybe not. He’d kept her well away from it all today. He hadn’t even introduced her to that partner of his—Doyle, Toni had said his name was. He’d had a cold face, she’d thought when she saw him looking at her while talking to Bodie at the, well, she supposed it was the ‘crime scene,’ wasn’t it? Toni had said Doyle was charming, too, but he hadn’t looked it. Maybe that was what the work did to them, because Bodie had certainly been different at the scene. She’d tried to kiss him, to show she understood about the show, but he’d dodged her kiss like a nephew avoiding his auntie.

“Look, everyone’s looking,” he’d said, eyes flitting towards the others gathered outside the car. “God’s sake,” he’d added under his breath. He hadn’t minded people looking when he’d walked with his arm around her on Monday night. In fact, _he’d_ been the one insisted on a kiss when she’d got up to go to the loo at the restaurant on Wednesday! But at his work, well, he’d actually blushed. She’d seen the colour rise in his face. It had surprised her, even as she’d felt a wave of affection for him. To be so embarrassed by a simple kiss! And yet….

Really, that was the trouble, wasn’t it? Tea ready, she sat down at her kitchen table. She had seen him three days out of four, and he had seemed a different person each time. What was she to make of that? It was all well and good for Toni, who seemed used to it, and had warned her at the scene: “No, don't get excited. Look at them, I can tell. It's ‘Good bye, girls, give you a ring soon; duty calls.’” Pat didn’t want to be so easily displaced. She didn’t want a boyfriend who changed every day. Who would? Honestly, she didn’t think Toni would stick it much longer. She’d made the best of it, but Pat could tell she’d been disappointed too often. “Work always comes first,” she’d said. “I understand that, really, but you can’t plan on anything.” Toni had looked out the window of the squad car. “But he’s just so…. When he looks at me with those big green eyes, and smiles. Dammit.” She’d looked sad, Pat thought. As if it was an ending.

Pat closed her eyes for a moment. She would end it with Bodie. Better to do it now than later, when it would hurt more. She didn’t want to look like Toni. She nodded to herself. It was funny, she thought, as she sipped her tea. Toni had blue eyes, like Bodie’s, and dark hair as well. She herself had green eyes like Doyle’s, although her hair was red. They were sort of like opposite partners to Bodie and Doyle. Well, would have been, if it had worked out and they’d double-dated. It might have been nice. Ah, well, best to move along.

 

**PHASE 2**

 

Cowley closed the door behind the Minister, then walked to his drinks cabinet for a final shot of whisky before bed. “I hope you know what you’re doing, George,” the Minister had said. Cowley thought he did, but he couldn’t avoid the worry. It came with the job. When he stopped worrying, that would be when he would go into retirement. Assuming he made it through this situation. He walked to a chair with his whisky.

The Minister had been worried about Cowley’s career, but the stakes were so much higher than that. “It’s lives I’m gambling with,” he’d told the Minister. True enough. Bodie and Doyle’s tomorrow, but Drake’s as well. And whichever it was, between Tully and Manton, who was the true traitor. He and Drake had worked on this baited trap for years. They knew there was a Number One—the best asset of the Russians—but not who it was. If all went well, they would find out tomorrow. If all went well. He drank some of the whisky in his glass.

Doyle and Bodie were his best agents, yet he was risking them in this venture. It would be worth it if they were successful. He’d done all he could to ensure that success, but he knew better than anyone that any op could go pear shaped. But then, that was why he was using Doyle and Bodie. If any two were better able to survive in the face of catastrophe, he had yet to meet them. They trusted him, despite the fact he was leaving them in the dark. It was imperative to do so, but that didn’t mean he liked the necessity. They would be using stun grenades, and he hoped Number One would plant that idea in the Russians’ heads as well. The Minister had reassured him that the Russians would not risk an international incident at this time. The stun grenades might well be the deciding factor that would allow Gorky to proceed. Cowley smiled a little at that.

Stun grenades. He remembered Bodie’s reaction when they’d found the box MacKay had left in Bodie’s flat. There was no love lost between him and MacKay, as the tulip proved. Cowley smiled again. Bodie had also been appalled to learn—and, really, how could the lad not have known?—that Cowley had a key to his flat. For security purposes alone that would be a necessity. And yet he’d said: “I'm not entirely happy about anyone having the key to my flat! I mean, what if _you_ were to come in unexpectedly while I was in the mi— Doing— Well, anything, you know.” And he’d looked at his partner to share the outrage. Judging by Doyle’s expression, he’d wondered what had caused Bodie to take leave of his senses. Bodie had actually blushed a bit, as he’d looked at Doyle and then away. Blushed! Cowley wouldn’t have believed it possible for that young man. But then, the young did have odd ideas about their elders. Did the lad think Cowley didn’t know he brought women to his flat? Or understand the need? No, of course Bodie knew the first, but didn’t want to think about the second, in the same way a teenager didn’t want to think about his parents having sex. It made Cowley feel old, which rather nettled him. 

And then Doyle had done his best—in their usual way—to get Bodie back on an even keel, by using the tulip MacKay had left behind to make a joke at Bodie’s expense. “Oh, I don't know, sir, it might not be that. It might be some kind of, um, bouquet. I mean, uh, you never can tell these days, you know.” As if anyone could possibly think that of Bodie, although he wouldn’t put it past MacKay to have planted the tulip for just such tomfoolery. Doyle’s tactic had worked, and he had called them back to the business at hand. Yes, they were good lads. They backed one another up, and that teamwork would help them tomorrow—would help _him_. 

He’d done all he could, he’d even double-checked his own thinking with that of the Minister. But he knew he would have trouble sleeping tonight, regardless. The night before an op was always the worst. He was pleased Bodie and Doyle were conserving their energy by having Bodie sleep at Doyle’s. No women; they would be ready bright and early tomorrow. He toasted them with the last of the whisky. It was time for bed.

 

**PHASE 3**

 

The giddiness and adrenaline he’d felt when leaving the hospital had dissipated by the time Doyle arrived at his flat. He didn’t argue when Bodie double-parked to drop him off at the entrance to his block. “Go on up,” Bodie said. “I have a key. I’ll bring your things.” Which wasn’t surprising, given recent history, Doyle thought as he let himself into the block. It would have been useful the day he had been shot. Should he wait for…? He moved towards the lift before he completed the thought. He’d already endured one visit from Kate Ross in hospital, he wasn’t going to give cause for concern. He didn’t need Bodie beside him to enter his own flat, just because he remembered all too well what had happened the last time.

He allowed himself to acknowledge the weariness he felt as the lift took him up. All he really wanted to do was to lay his head down and go to sleep. But Bodie would be along soon, and he didn’t want to cause him any concern, either. Bodie had shown up every day in hospital, usually when Doyle had been just about ready to go mad with boredom. He’d even turned up for those first couple of physio sessions. To protect the physiotherapist, he’d said. Rotten sod. But his presence had spurred Doyle on and he could see a path towards recovery. He’d been fortunate in the first place that he hadn’t developed any infection from the bullets or the surgery. He should be ready for Jack Crane within two months, and then it would be on to Macklin before he’d be back on the squad. It seemed a long way away, however, when he felt tired from just a drive home.

Doyle didn’t pause at his flat, just unlocked the door and walked in. Get on with it. He noticed the change in the furniture arrangement first, and then that his big white rug had been replaced with a darker one. Perhaps some of the flooring had been replaced as well. Or would he find blood stains—? Doyle kept walking, went through each room in order to see if anything else had changed, he told himself, but knew it was to make certain no one else was in the flat. He heard Bodie come in and found him in the living room, setting down the bag from the hospital. 

“I’ll make some tea.” Bodie turned towards the kitchen.

“You don’t have to stay,” Doyle said, because he wanted the opposite. 

Bodie shrugged. “Don’t have to go, either. Want some?” 

“Yeah. Thanks.” Bodie was already disappearing into the kitchen. Doyle picked up the bag and took it through to his bedroom. Fuck. _Don’t be surprised that it takes time for you to feel like normal_ , Kate Ross had said. He’d thought he’d done pretty well in hospital, but coming home…. He didn’t trust his own instincts. He didn’t want anything to be different because of his own stupidity, but it seemed everything was. It seemed Bodie was. He closed his eyes for a moment. That was it, wasn’t it? What did he expect, that Bodie would kiss him in hospital? Idiot. But it was what he’d wanted. Well, no, not that. But…. Christ, he didn’t know what the fuck he wanted. 

Back to normal? Yeah, he wanted to feel like himself again. But he hadn’t been happy before the shooting, had he? He’d turned down Bodie’s offer of a drink because he’d needed time away to think. About the job. About Bodie. About their bloody relationship that wasn’t a relationship and never could be in the way he wanted. Sex between them, begun so easily—when? Sometime after Mickey Hamilton had been killed, the poor, stupid sod. But as the months had gone by, he’d wanted it more and more; wanted Bodie, who understood him better than anyone ever had. And that danger had sent him running to Ann, which at least had served to shake him up, shake the addiction that had been developing for Bodie. After he’d blown it with Ann—inevitable, really—Bodie had seen him through the aftermath. But he’d been more like the mate he’d always been than…something else. It had been good between them. They’d had sex on and off, but he hadn’t felt as…needy. He’d managed to close the door on useless hopes. But then Bodie’s past had come pushing in, and it wasn’t his own needs that had pulled him back in, but Bodie’s. He’d wanted to throttle Bodie for keeping his secrets, but he’d wanted to destroy King Billy. And Keller, for that matter. What he felt for Bodie went well beyond mates who— Well, he’d best not think about that right now. 

“Ray?”

He turned his head to find Bodie at the doorway. “Sorry. Tea ready?”

“Getting cold.”

“I’ll just get the tablets out.” He’d put the bag on his dresser, and as he turned away, tablet bottle in hand, he noticed Bodie’s overnight bag on the floor. He paused in his movements, then looked at Bodie. “Spending the night?”

“Yeah. Here, give those to me. The nurse said I was to make certain you took them.” Bodie’s voice was normal, but Doyle noticed the tension in his body.

“Look, Bodie, the spirit might be willing, but—”

“Don’t be daft.” Bodie’s voice was rough. He plucked the bottle from Doyle’s hand and turned towards the door.

“I don’t need a bloody keeper!”

Bodie paused at the doorway, and Doyle suddenly remembered whose fault it was he’d been shot. But when Bodie turned, his face was calm. “Maybe it isn’t about you. Did you ever think of that?” Bodie walked away.

Doyle followed him, letting his temper flame because it was better than the alternative. Besides, a row was normal, wasn’t it? He found Bodie in the kitchen, but the words stopped in his throat when he noticed the colour that had risen in Bodie’s cheeks. 

“Tea’s in the living room,” Bodie said, his eye on the bottle he placed on the worktop.

Bodie? Blushing? He hardly noticed the tremor as he raised his hand to run it through his hair. What in sodding—

“For God’s sake, go and sit down, Doyle.”

The irritation in Bodie’s voice brought welcome familiarity. He allowed Bodie to chivvy him to the living room. He settled on the sofa, took a reviving slurp of tea. Almost the first thing he’d said to Bodie in hospital had been: “You saved me.” 

“Yeah, well, you didn’t exactly make it easy, did you?” Bodie had replied. And then had yelled at him for failing to set the secondary lock. Typical Bodie, and the normality of it had made him feel better. He knew he needed Bodie; his dreams in hospital only proved it: “C’mon Doyle, don’t let them beat you,” that Bodie had said. So, Doyle hadn’t. But maybe that Bodie—subconscious Bodie—had meant something more by that. Maybe everything was fine with his instincts, if he just had the courage to follow them.

“I don’t want you to go,” Doyle said, pushing the words out. He raised his eyes to Bodie. “Ever, really.”

There was a pause while Bodie’s eyes met his. “Yeah, well.” Bodie coughed. “It’s a good job I’ve moved in, then.”

“To look after me?”

Bodie sat down next to him on the sofa, picked up his own cup of tea. “That’s the story.”

“It won’t wear.”

“I don’t care.” 

Doyle said nothing.

Bodie set his tea down. “Watching you in hospital…I started wondering why, you know?”

Doyle nodded, although Bodie’s eyes were on the opposite wall. “Dangerous question.”

“Yeah.”

Doyle felt a tightening in his gut. “And your answer is that bag in our bedroom, is it?” 

Bodie’s head turned quickly, his eyes wide. 

Doyle grinned at him.

Bodie leaned towards him and kissed him, hard. 

“Watch the tea,” Doyle said, when he could, although he didn’t really mind.

Bodie took the cup out of Doyle’s hands, set it down, then pulled Doyle until he was in Bodie’s arms, lying partly on top of him on the sofa. 

“I’ll fall asleep,” Doyle warned as he slipped his arm around Bodie’s chest.

“Good.”

“Lots more than just one ‘why,’ Bodie.”

“Yeah. Later, Ray.”

Doyle raised his head. “You do realise, now that I’ve actually _seen_ you blush—”

“Yeah, yeah.” Bodie pushed Doyle’s head back down. 

Doyle closed his eyes, listened to the reassuring sound of Bodie’s heartbeat. 

“It’ll be your turn next,” Bodie whispered.

The End  
August, 2018

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, as always, to EOS!


End file.
